


Granma's Tales

by Origami_Roses



Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Apprenticeship, Cats, Embroidery, Everyday people, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, I'm wondering who will pick up on the name joke, Inheritance, Quilting, Reminiscing, Sickness, Storytelling, crazy cats, everyday chores, hometown heroes, near tragedy, sideways reference to the Rogue Wizard, teatime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-04-08 11:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14104728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Origami_Roses/pseuds/Origami_Roses
Summary: A series of tales about growing up and dealing with life.





	1. A new beginning

**Author's Note:**

> When her mentor unexpectedly dies, Aloise's apprenticeship is transferred to a rival.

Granma, will you tell me a story? Pleeease?”  
Aloise looked up from the table where she was working, and smiled indulgently at her granddaughter - and newest apprentice - Heline.  
“Well… I suppose it will help the time go faster. My old eyes are about ready for a rest, anyway. I’ll expect you to have that length of bias tape you are working on and another like it done by the time I finish, though. Fair deal. What kind of story would you like?”  
“One about when you were an apprentice.”

_..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._…_

“Bias tape”, Aloise grumbled. “bloody boring bias tape. I hate bias tape.”  
Matron Meril looked up at her newest apprentice with distaste. “Hate it or not, we need a lot of it, Aloise, so keep at it.” Matron Meril didn’t particularly like the girl, taken in after her former mentor had died unexpectedly. It was only the reputation of that former mentor that had induced her to accept the girl at all. A newly made apprentice - some years older than usual, no less - was not worth much, after all.  
The apprentice fee had been minimal, too, since the apprenticeship was a transfer, not a first choice - the fee being paid out of Matron Greta Langnout’s estate. Matron Greta had been retired as Guildmaster of the Clothiers Guild for several years, and was reputed to have a sense for talent, so the girl must be worth teaching, despite her impatience with basic skills and simple jobs. One would expect a bit of gratitude, since the girl was obviously very poor, having nothing besides a small patchwork bag of simple clothing. The bag itself was certainly Greta’s work, and new at that. Not Greta’s finest work - her stiff fingers would have made it difficult to keep the tiny, delicate stitches perfectly even - but as good as any older Journeyman; even many of the younger Masters would do no better. She must have thought well of the girl, or she would not have gone to the trouble of making it, as crippled as the old lady’s fingers had reportedly been.  
Aloise continued grumbling under her breath, and Matron Meril pretended not to hear. At least there were no tears dripping onto the fabric today. The past few days had been hard, and it was oh-so-tempting to beat some manners into the girl. Reminding herself that Aloise’s whole life had been turned upside down, she'd lost someone obviously dear to her, and moving was always hard on anyone, not to mention suddenly having to share room with three other apprentices - and being the lowest of the lot, despite being older ….she almost was able to feel sympathy for the girl. Almost. Aloise’s increasingly voluble grumbling made it hard. Meril again took her temper in hand, and merely said “Child, you will work the rest of this hour in silence. It will do you good to learn to hold your tongue”.  
Aloise subsided to a barely audible mutter, and, reminding herself that Greta’s will was to be read in two days, Meril forced herself to let the matter rest. In two days, she’d know how well her acceptance of this apprentice would pay off. There was the barest possibility Matron Greta had thought well enough of the girl to leave Aloise her vast collection of original patterns and notes. Matron Meril would certainly be able to make good and profitable use of those if so. If not, she’d go to the probable estate auction and see what she could get. She and almost every other master in the Clothier’s Guild. Even with hands all but crippled with joint aches, Matron Greta still had a formidable reputation as a patternmaker and designer, able to command high prices for impressive creations with which the ladies of the Court sought to outshine their rivals. She had outsourced much of the sewing work, true, but not all of it.  


***~~~***

Aloise reluctantly trailed her fuming mentor back to the workshop. Matron Meril had taken her along to the reading of Matron Greta’s will. It had been short and most unsatisfactory. Aloise had a small amount held in trust by the crown and administered by the Guard, providing a meager monthly allowance and resource for emergencies like Healing. Given the accident that had left her partly crippled, Meril supposed it was only natural that Greta had made sure that medical care was provided for. Greta had left her house and other goods to the Temple of the Lord of Light, subject to conditions in a private, sealed missive to the rector thereof. Perfectly legal, but rather frustrating. Perhaps the retired Guildmaster hadn’t thought so highly of her apprentice after all. Perhaps Meril had gotten exactly what it appeared - a lazy girl with little aptitude for finework.

***~~~***

Matron Meril was in a state, as the phrase went. Two of her Journeymen were down with a raging fever, and she had a large order from an extremely wealthy - and notoriously impatient and picky - client due by week’s end. She’d moved 3 of her older Apprentices onto the simpler and more straightforward parts of the order, and was working on the rest with help from her third Journeyman, leaving her lowest Apprentices to do the housework and most of the material preparation. And that blasted little chit Aloise was being stubborn and grumpy on top of it. Insisting she could help with the harder parts. Insolent child. Meril’s frayed temper was hanging by a thread.  
“Let me prove I can do it. Please just give me a chance.” Aloise pleaded again. "You need an extra set of hands, and I can help.”  
“I need an extra set of _skilled_ hands.” Meril snapped, “not lazy ones!”  
Aloise opened her mouth to protest again, and Meril was having none of it, striking her sharply across the face. “If you cannot be useful, then get out! Your constant interruptions are a hindrance! Get out!”  
Tears starting up from the pain of both slap and words, Aloise fled.  
After crying herself out in a quiet corner of the nearby park, Aloise really didn’t want to return. What was the point? She’d been there for a fortnight, and Matron Meril refused to even listen, wouldn’t set her any task besides the most boring and repetitious, gave her no chance to show what she could do. Since the will had been read, Meril had been even shorter tempered and meaner with her. Aunt Greta had said that Aloise’s skills were in need of polishing, but she had the basics, and she was making arrangements for Aloise to go to one of the better Master Clothiers in the city. Someone unhampered by the severe joint-ache that prevented Greta from doing much sewing at all. Someone who could demonstrate those techniques Greta could now only explain. Someone who would teach her. Surely those arrangements had been with Matron Meril. Even if things hadn’t been completely arranged at the time of Aunt Greta’s unexpected death, surely they’d been in the works. The Guard who had come to escort her had specifically said “Greta wanted you placed here”... hadn’t she? She’d still been sunk in grief, though the Healers had said she was unlikely to make herself sick with it again… perhaps she’d misunderstood? Or heard only part of what was said? Suddenly, Aloise needed to know, to be sure.

_..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._…_

Aloise paused, taking a sip of water and remembering that day...  
“Did you go talk to the Guard? What did he say, Granma?” Heline’s eager voice recalled Aloise from her wandering thoughts.  
She smiled at her granddaughter and asked in return “How is that bias tape coming? I’m about halfway through this story. Will you have your second strip done by the time I’m finished?”  
Heline pouted a bit before admitting that she’s gotten caught up in the story and was only _mostly_ done with the first one.  
“Well then,” Aloise said “I’m going to rest my voice for a bit until you’re done with that one and ready to start the next. The sooner you finish, the sooner you’ll hear the rest of the story.”


	2. a new beginning, continued

Aloise knew exactly when Heline finished the tying off the last stitch of the bias tape. Heline told her. "I'm done, Granma! The rest of the story now, Please!"

Aloise chuckled. "Thread a new needle, dear, and start your next piece. I do expect it done by the time I finish my story. Now, let's see... Where was I?...."

_..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._

Though she didn't know whether the Guard who had escorted her to Matron Meril's was stationed at the nearest Post, Aloise quickly walked there. At the least she could ask how to get in touch with ... What had the Guard's name been? Well, she thought, at least I can try. Maybe playing escort is an unusual enough assignment that someone will remember. Or something.

There was already someone talking to the Guard on duty when Aloise arrived, so she quietly waited just inside the door, out of the wind. The Guard post was an old building, the beams dark with age, and floor boards slightly hollowed along the direct line to the desk from the door, worn by the countless feet brought on countless errands. Aloise entertained herself by trying to find a single line of wood grain running the entire length of the floor, despite crossing more than one board. The darkened wood made it difficult to see the grain, and it almost never happened that they lined up perfectly at a seam, but it was a way to keep her mind busy and not eavesdrop on a private conversation. So it was a bit of a shock when she heard her name in the conversation she was deliberately not listening to. She looked up, actually looked at the man talking with the Guard, and realized that she knew him. 

"Uncle Ed?"

He turned around and it was, indeed, Aunt Greta's good friend, Paredwin Gar. Her Honorary Uncle.

"Allie!! I've been trying to find you! What brings you to the Guard? Not in trouble, are you?"

Aloise looked at her feet, flustered. "I'm... not sure. I was looking for the Guard who escorted me to Matron Meril's. I'd wanted to ask her about something she'd said."

"Meril's? Ha! Greta DID get that stubborn old bird to take you on, then? Good! She's one of the best currently in Haven."

Aloise looked up, startled. "You know about what arrangements were made? That's what I wanted to ask about. Things are... Well, I mean... I have questions. About... stuff."

Ed grinned at his Honorary Niece. "Shall we have lunch and discuss the matter? I'm about done with what brought me here. Besides finding you, of course, since that's all done, now! What a lucky coincidence." Turning back to the young Guard on duty behind the desk he finished "If you could please spread the word, Alen, I'd appreciate it. I'll check with you in a week, but if you hear aught sooner, send a runner and I'll be around as soon as I can manage it."

"Sure thing, Gar. Thanks for the heads up. Enjoy your lunch; wish I could join you." - This last with a wink for Aloise, who blushed and looked at her feet again.

***~~~***

The walk to a nearby tavern was quiet. Aloise didn't feel like talking with so many people around them. Ed Gar spent the walk watching her, hiding his concern at the dark circles under her eyes, the bruise starting to darken her cheek, the hesitant manner, so unlike the girl he knew.

He arranged for a table in a quiet corner, ordered rabbit pot pie and cider for both of them, and waited for Aloise to speak. She stayed silent even after the meal was brought, toying with the delicious food and avoiding his eyes.

"So...." he broke the silence, "you have questions?" Aloise looked up and he could now see the tears shining in her eyes. "You have problems, too, I see." 

Ed moved around the table to sit beside her and draped an arm over her shoulders in a gentle hug. Aloise stiffened briefly before collasping against him and weeping into his coat. He just held her and let her cry, blinking away tears of his own. He'd been out of the city on business, and hadn't even known of Greta's death until a few days after returning when he'd dropped by to visit and found the house empty. He'd spent the next several days trying to find out what had happened to Aloise, tracking her through the neighbor to the Apothecary to the Healer to the City Court to the Guard. She'd been in the hands of strangers for nearly a month, and had obviously had a harder time of it than he'd thought. So he held her, and let her cry, wondering if he was the only person besides the Healer to do so.

"I miss her so much." The heartbroken whisper brought more tears to his eyes, and he didn't blink these away. "Me, too, Allie. Me, too. I hadn't even known until after I got back. Being a good friend doesn't count as next-of-kin, so no one told me. I showed up for our usual tea, and found I'd missed the funeral. I've been looking for you since. Sorry it's taken me so long to find you." Ed dropped a light kiss on top of her hair, and she hugged him tighter for a moment. "I've found you now, though. We'll be all right."

"If you knew Aunt Greta was sending me to Matron Meril, why didn't you look there first?"

"Because Meril doesn't like me and all I knew for certain was that she was high on Greta's list of Masters to pass you on to. I believe she was planning to try and get Meril to accept you when you got passed to Journeyman a few moons from now. I didn't know whether she'd talked to Meril yet, whether Meril had accepted, or whether Meril was being a stubborn old ja- um, cow ... like usual."

"Aunt Greta was going to Journey me in a few moons? She never told me that! Why does Matron Meril treat me like an idiot, then? Aunt Great must have told her, at least, if she was sending me there. I hate it! She's so mean. She won't teach me anything, and won't listen when I tell her I already know how to do stuff. Like today. She has this big order due, and I want to help, and she hit me when I offered to help, and all she has me doing is washing dishes and cleaning floors. She wouldn't even let me help with the pinning or cutting. The only needlework she's let me do since arriving is bias tape and straight hems. I'm so bored I could scream! And she just gets mad at me all the time and acts like I'm as stupid and lazy as Marte."

"That old bird.... Greta always said she's stubborn and short-tempered, but that sounds downright stupid, which Meril is not. Greta would've Journeyed you already, but there's a minimum required one year in apprenticeship. Since she didn't formalize your apprenticeship until your ma died, you've a few moons to go, yet, for all that you've been doing advanced work for years. I really don't know, sweetling, but we'll figure it out and get things straight. 

_..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._

Aloise paused for another sip of water, and Heline asked "Was Marte one of the other apprentices?"

Aloise snorted a little, "Marte was Aunt Greta's elderly cat who lay around all the time and was too stupid to keep her tail out of her water dish, even though she hated water. She would frequently sit in her water dish, usually shortly after stepping in it, and look terribly offended at the whole situation. Often more than once a day. Marte was a very stupid cat, and a very messy one as well. She did me a favor once, though, so I won't speak too badly of her."

"How did a cat do you a favor?"

"Do you want that story, or shall I finish this one?"

"This one. Please."

"Very well. Keep working on that bias tape, dear. It won't sew itself, and this story won't last all that much longer."

_..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._

The rest of lunch was passed in small talk and reminiscing, and Aloise felt much better afterward. Ed had made her promise to keep her head down, mouth shut and assigned work done without complaint for the next several days while he looked into a few things. Since Meril's large order was due at the end of the week, he'd stop by shortly after that when her temper was likely to be a wee bit cooler.

The week passed far too slowly for Aloise. She quietly did as she was told, enduring it chiefly with the knowledge that something would change at the end of the week. Any change would be welcome for, though her meek behaviour seemed to mollify Meril, she was still treated like an idiot, yelled at when Meril's temper was frayed, which was often with the stress she was under. Aloise managed to avoid getting slapped again, though one of the other apprentices didn't. Aloise decided she really didn't like Matron Meril, and took a little bit of vindictive pleasure in seeing Meril deal with her difficult client when the order was inspected before being picked up. Having to be polite to the woman would be a trial to anyone, and Meril was even more out of temper afterward, but watching her struggle to keep a pleasant facade was strangely satisfying.

For her part, Meril was satisfied that her newest apprentice was starting to learn her place. Obviously there was merit in a good hard slap, and the little chit was much the better for it, occasionally glaring angrily (though never again at her) but holding her tongue. Perhaps she was finally learning some gratitude at being taken in. Honestly, it wasn't like the girl had many choices. No family, she'd been told. No one to take her in. Apprenticed late in what was probably a last effort to give the girl a respectable future. She should be grateful.

Meril was quite surprised, then, when a package arrived at week's end for Aloise containing a letter and

"My workbag!! I thought it was lost!" Aloise hugged the item tightly, glad to have it back. Tears welled up and trickled down her cheeks. Uncle Ed had found it! Wiping her eyes, she turned to the letter, still clutching the bag as though afraid it would disappear.

'My Dearest Niece,  
I am still looking into a few things on your behalf, but thought that having your own work might help with the terrible boredom you mentioned. Keep your head down and your nose clean. Things will work out.  
If you need to get in touch with me, the Guard knows how to find me. I get leave in a few days and will stop by to see you then.

With Love,  
Paredwin Gar  
2nd Lieutenant  
5th East Pike Division  
13th Squadron

P.S. Father Ollie asked about you at Temple. Priests are good at listening and often have good advice.'

Aloise smiled. A few days. She could put up with a few more days. And the hint to talk to Father Oligren was unexpected, but welcome. If she could manage to get a couple hours off. Her smile faded as Matron Meril plucked the letter from her fingers to read. 

Meril pursed her lips. For the first time it occurred to her to wonder what Aloise had spent that afternoon doing, and to whom she had talked. And what stories she had told. "Boredom? You have quite enough work to keep you well occupied. If you need more to do, I can cetainly provide it."

Aloise hunched her shoulders and glared at the floor. She would keep her temper, she would keep her temper... "Enough work to stay busy, yes. But not well occupied. I can do much more, but you never listen when I try to tell you. I am utterly bored."

"Gods above and below, child! What could you posssibly know, an Apprentice of less than a year. I'm surprised you can sew a straight seam without bungling it." 

Aloise looked up, still glaring. "I was with Aunt Greta for nearly eight years. I know plenty." 

Meril's eyebrows shot up, almost comically. "Aunt Greta?" 

Aloise dropped her eyes again. "Technically she's my Grandmother, but she preferred to be called Aunt. My mother and I moved in to take care of her when she was hurt." Her voice was no longer angry, and Meril could hear the fondness and grief. "When Mother died, Aunt Greta chose formal apprenticeship over adoption to take custody of me. I was to be Journeyed before year's end, but... but she..." Her voice broke, and the tears she'd been fighting spilled over again. 

Meril watched Aloise cry into her workbag in shock. Eight years? Aunt Greta? Eight years?!? This irritating brat had been working with and for the redoubtable Matron Greta Langnout, Retired Guildmaster, for EIGHT YEARS?? And no one had a clue that she'd even taken on an apprentice. Greta'd never said a word. For eight years. Eight... ~*  
"You cannot possibly have started as an apprentice when you were three years old." 

"Aunt Greta taught me to use a drop spindle when I was about four." Aloise sniffled. "And dyeing and simple hand-weaving. She started me on basic needlework when I was five or six. I don't remember, now." Aloise's voice was tired, still choked a bit. And her nose was stuffed. She sniffled again, then pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve to blow her nose. "It's been so long, and my age didn't matter to me then. The Healers said she needed to use her fingers to keep them from stiffening completely. I think teaching me was part of how she chose to do so. I don't really remember much. I'm not sure exactly when I started learning what an apprentice would. It was just fun time spent with Aunt Greta, around taking care of the house and stuff with my mother. I liked sewing so much more than housework, and she always had new things to teach me and stories to tell. A few years ago, she started taking commissions again, and had me help her where I could. It was exciting and fun. I loved working with her." 

Matron Meril was starting to feel slightly ill. She may have made a terrible mistake in her assumptions. "Well, it appears I'll need to test you, since you have no work of your own to show. I don't have any more large orders due for some time, thank the gods, so I'll set you to parts of what we have on order and see what you can do." 

Aloise looked up, startled. "Wha... um, thanks? I do have samples of my work, though. Um, I can go get it...?" Aloise wasn't sure quite to make of this change in Matron Meril's attitude toward her. It seemed to be an improvement... at least she was being listened to. 

Meril raised one eyebrow. "Go get it? You have nothing but a bag of clothes, which are certainly nothing special. And now that work bag. Which is in your hand now. What do you have to get?" 

Aloise sighed. "If I may go get my bag, I'll show you." 

***~~~***

Aloise handed the bag to Matron Meril who promptly looked inside. It was empty. "Nothing. You have nothing, child. What stupidity are you trying to pull?"

Aloise sighed. "The bag itself. Look at the bag," 

"Nonsense. This bag is far too fine of work for any apprentice. How dare you try to claim Greta's work as your own, you lying little chit!" Meril raised her hand, threateningly.

Aloise flinched. Not so much of a change, after all, then. "If you will actually look at the bag, please? It's a half-and-half. Aunt Greta would do half of a square so I could see what the embroidery pattern was supposed to look like, and I'd finish the other half. That's my stitch sampler. I had to pass off each stitch and pattern before I could help with her commissions. We did squares for the stitches I'd need to know for the project we were going to work on. I finally had enough squares to make the bag about a year ago, and that was my test for a finished project; piecing the squares together and doing the lining, straps, and closure."

Meril blinked, lowering her hand, and took a closer look at the bag. Now that Aloise had said it, she could see the difference. Half of each square was more evenly stitched, the patterns more regular, satin stitches noticeably smoother, lines cleaner. The other half was a bit clumsy, but showed improvement - Meril could tell which part of Aloise's half had been done first, in most cases. The seams of the patchwork were neatly done, lining secure - though the stitches closing the aperture where the bag had been turned were easily seen. The straps were adequate and sturdily attached, and the drawstring closure with covering flap... did its job. Her first assessment of the bag as upper-journeyman level work had been fair, if not very accurate. It was an unusual teaching method, doing it half-and-half like this, but did provide a decent sampler in a practical form.

"Very well," she huffed. "I will accept this as a stitch sampler, but still need to test your knowledge. I expect you to follow orders, and do only what you're told."

Aloise accepted the bag back when Meril thrust it at her, uncertain if this change was a good thing or not. At least she'd have more interesting work than washing dishes and making bias tape. She'd do as Uncle Ed had told her - keep her head down and her nose clean. For a few more days, at least. Maybe it would work out.


	3. A New Beginning - Part 3

"Granma?" Heline asked as the silence stretched on a bit too long for her limited patience. "What happened when your Uncle came to see you? How did things end? That can't possibly be the end of that story!"

Aloise chuckled. "It didn't end, dear. Real stories don't end, they just come to a convenient place to stop talking. Every day we live is another page written, and when we die, the story continues with those who know us."

"Graaanmaaaa~"

Aloise chuckled again. "Not quite done with your bias tape and want the story to continue so you have more time, hmmm?" she asked mischievously, smirking at Heline's half-hearted glare. "Very well, then..."

_..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._

Aloise wasn't quite humming with contentment as she worked on the bodice piece she'd been assigned as her latest test. The testing was sometimes tedious and occasionally frustrating (due more to Matron Meril's temper than the assigned work), but the last three days had been the best so far at Matron Meril's. Which wasn't really saying much, when she bothered to think about it, since the first couple weeks had been so horrid. Still, stitching beaded trim into a blind seam was much better than bias tape. She was careful to keep the stitches as small and even as she could, just catching the delicate trim and sealing the hem all at once. It was tricksy, persnickety work, one of the last things Aunt Greta had taught her, and though she'd not claim mastery of the technique, yet, Aloise could manage it if she didn't rush. So she was working slowly and methodically, focusing on the work before her instead of worrying about when Matron Meril would next interrupt and demand to see what progress she'd made.

Aloise was so focused on laying the trim flat around a point that she didn't even hear the bell as the door opened, and was only vaguely aware of Matron Meril's irate response to someone. As long as Aloise wasn't the focus of the tirade, she had started tuning the old lady out. It was only when Matron Meril came to stand before her that Aloise looked up, and then leapt up to catch Uncle Ed in a heartfelt hug.

Ed returned the hug, and felt his heart lift. This was much more the girl he knew, this was his Allie. Matron Meril harrumphed, and the pair broke apart, Ed still holding Aloise's shoulders as he grinned at her. "Well, Sweetling, Meril has very graciously agreed to let you attend Evening Service at Temple with me, so finish off what you're doing, and then fetch your hat and cloak. It's chilly out." 

Aloise cast a quick glance at her mentor. The barely-hidden glower told her that this little outing was more likely the result of Uncle Ed being underhanded than Matron Meril being agreeable. Regardless of how she wanted to run out the door, Aloise knew there was absolutely nothing to be gained from appearing anything less than diligent, especially if Meril was already displeased. Especially now that she had something to lose. Picking up the spool from where it had fallen when she stood, she gently straightened and carefully rewound the beaded trim before tying off her last stitch and wrapping the bodice fabric around it in a neat package, then putting it away on the shelf. Murmuring her thanks to Meril, she fairly flew up the stairs to gather her things.

***~~~***

Ed could barely hold his laughter. The look on Meril's face when he'd introduced himself as Aloise's uncle had been too priceless. He'd known Meril years ago. It hadn't ended well, and he'd never tried getting back in contact with her. He'd heard anecdotes and complaints from Greta, and was content to remain a long-ago acquaintance, until he'd found Allie and knew she needed him to be there.

His own formidable temper had roused, then, and it was only a lifetime's practice of not letting that temper control him that kept him from storming in and confronting her immediately. Always a bad idea. Going into a battle hot was one thing - the lines of friend and foe were usually clear, if the scouts had done their job well the terrain was somewhat known as well, and hopefully the higher-ups would have something resembling a coherent plan. Going in hot under those conditions had stood him in good stead. Being a scout and going in hot was disastrous, and he was essentially a scout here, finding out what had happened. Fortunately, he had plenty of experience scouting. 

It hadn't been terribly difficult, really. Wills were a matter of public record, after all, and a simple query to the right sort of clerk had sent him to Father Oligren, rector of the Temple of the Lord of Light. Father Ollie had already begun to inventory the contents of Greta's estate, and had set aside those things he thought belonged to Aloise by right. Ed had packed up the workbag and sent it by runner the next morning with a note of encouragement and a hint of who to ask for more. He doubted that Meril would let Aloise attend temple often. Despite the laws protecting the rights of every person to worship as they chose, there were no laws guaranteeing time off to do so. Aloise might be able to attend on her quarter days - those were, if not guaranteed by law, at least so completely expected and accepted that to deny Aloise that bit of time would be a major social blunder, which Matron Meril was not likely to risk. Which just meant that Ed would need to persuade Meril that a couple hours off would be beneficial... to Meril. It had taken a bit of much more subtle "scouting" to turn up the information he needed and develop a plan of ~~attack~~ approach, but here he was with Allie at his side, entering the Temple courtyard just in time for evening service.

***~~~***

Ed glanced down as Aloise sighed, and smiled at the way she had relaxed. The peaceful atmosphere of the sanctuary was almost tangible. Candles gave a warm glow to the polished wood, and the subtly sweet scent of beeswax permeated the air. The dynamics of the space held the final harmonies of the hymn for a last moment after the voices stilled, filling the contemplative pause that preceded the dedication and benediction. The evening service was always brief, but none the less beautiful for that. Aloise spent a few minutes gazing at the altar candles in silence - presumably in prayer - after the service ended, and Ed was content to observe, offering his own thanks that he'd been able to grant her this brief respite.

***~~~***

Father Oligren quietly greeted them after seeing the rest of his congregation out, and invited the two of them into the kitchen for tea.

"It is good to see you again, Aloise." he said once they were seated, with steaming mugs in hand. "I'm glad Lieutenant Gar finally convinced a certain stubborn lady to grant my request to talk with you. There are some things we must discuss about your Grandmother's estate."

Aloise was confused. "Father? I... You asked Matron Meril? I didn't ... I'm not ..? I ...?" She took a deep breath and a sip of tea. "Would you please explain what you mean?"

"There are certain provisions for you in Greta's will that you need to be aware of, and a few questions I'd like to ask you. Shortly after Greta's will was read, I asked Meril to let you come here so I could talk with you. I did not, of course, tell her what this conversation would cover as it is really none of her business until you decide how you'd like to handle a few details. And, I admit, I do not fully trust her to not try to persuade you to do things her way. She is a decent person, but quite opinionated and ...hmm... less concerned with the welfare of others than seems right, to me. When I received no answer to that request, I sent another, giving her the benefit of the doubt that the first had gone astray. Two days later, Lieutenant Gar stopped by to tell me he'd seen you, and to ask about Greta's will. At that point, based on his story, I had to consider that Meril was deliberately blocking."

Uncle Ed growled a bit "To be blunt, she's an old bird who is disinclined to do anything that doesn't directly benefit her... and could we please drop the "lieutenant", Father? I'm retired, now, and you know it."

Fatrher Oligren just chuckled. "Retired or not, you are actively involved and your rank has stood you in good stead, Gar. But that is a discussion for later. Our little Aloise is looking very confused and deserves an explanation. 

"You see, my dear, Greta left the bulk of her estate in trust for you under the Temple's administration. You are some years from your majority, and she was worried that if she left it to you straight out it would attract all the usual sorts of wolves that prey on wealthy, inexperienced young women. The crown would have taken charge of it for you, of course, but that would only ensure the estate wasn't frittered away. It would have done nothing to protect you. And there are wolves at Court as well as anywhere else. There are a few things in her instructions that no longer apply, and so I'd like your opinion on those matters. We will gladly take care of the details for you, but I have every intention of making sure you are involved in the process. I refuse to let you be ignorant!" 

The stern look the priest gave her at this declaration was softened by a good humored little smirk, and Aloise couldn't help but smile at him. "Thank you, Father Ollie." Her smile wavered a little as she tried not to cry. The days after the reading of the will had been so  hard, and not just from Matron Meril's mood. The late night thoughts as she'd cried herself to sleep yet again - that Aunt Greta hadn't kept her promises, maybe hadn't really cared, maybe had just...forgotten - those had been harder to bear than almost anything. Having those doubts laid to rest was a relief, but brought a freshly intense bout of grief as well. Uncle Ed's arm around her shoulders set the tears flowing, and once again she was weeping into his coat.

Father Oligren came to stand beside her, laying his hand of her head in the usual gesture of blessing. "I am so sorry, child. Had I known where you were, I'd have sought you out, and had I known your situation, I would have pressed Meril harder and sooner for a meeting. May the One God grant you Peace, and may His Light illumine your path. You may seek help or shelter here at any time, Aloise. You always have a safe place to come. I do hope you will be able to attend more often." 

Through her tears, Aloise nodded. "I hope so, too, Father" she whispered. After a minute more, she straightened up, wiping her face. "I suppose I'd better not stay too much longer tonight, though. Matron Meril will not be in a good mood. What do I need to know or decide tonight?" 

Ed gave her a handkerchief and a wink. "For starters, you could decide to blow your nose. Much better than dripping down your blouse, in my opinion." 

The priest chuckled as he resumed his seat. "True enough. For now, consider whether you wish to continue learning with Meril. You do not have to decide immediately, but you should know that changing masters is an option for you. It is not often done, but quite possible. Meril is undoubtedly a highly skilled seamstress, and reputed to be a good and thorough, though harsh, teacher, but she is not the only one in the city. And think on whether you'd prefer to sell Greta's house and shop. Again, there is no need to decide immediately. I know you have many fond memories of the place, which may make parting with it difficult, and it would be useful in several years when you are setting up on your own. But it is inconvenient to keep a place in repair when untenanted, and there are taxes and assessments to be paid, as well. Empty buildings also have a tendency to find tenants all on their own, but seldom the sort you'd want. So, for now, just think about it over the next several days; give yourself time to weigh each side and really sort out your feelings - I'm sure they're rather a jumble right now. We'll have someone check in on you every few days. Discreetly, of course, just to see how you are doing. We're not going to leave you in a bad situation again. 

"In the meantime, the Temple accountant and I will continue to inventory Greta's estate. I will have a list of everything - and suggestions on what to sell, donate, or throw away. Much of the food in the kitchen had spoiled, I'm afraid, so that has been thrown out and what little was still usable was given to those in need. I'm sure you won't mind too terribly. The contents of the pantry, however - such as your favorite strawberry preserves - will wait on your decision." 

Ed chuckled. "You and those preserves. I remember when you were five, you secretly ate a whole jar and had _such_ a tummy ache! It didn't stay secret for long. I'll drop in myself every time I'm on that end of town." He frowned, "Which will not be nearly as often as I'd like."

Aloise blushed and looked at the floor, but smiled at their teasing. "I am glad some of the food could be used. I wish the rest hadn't spoiled. Aunt Greta never approved of wastefulness and would have been upset." She sniffled a bit before continuing, "I will think about the rest it, and let you know as soon as I can. I suppose I'd probably better go back, now, though." She heaved a sigh, "I wish I didn't have to; the service tonight was so nice, and I've enjoyed talking with you again, Father Ollie. You have always been one of the few adults who act like it's ok for me to think about things and have my own opinion. I've missed that. I hadn't realized how much until now. But I'd better go." 

***~~~***

Father Ollie saw them out, and Uncle Ed walked her back to Matron Meril's. Much of the walk was spent in reminiscing and teasing, but Aloise fell silent as they approached the shop, and clung to Ed's hand a bit tighter. "Sweetling? Are you ok?" he asked. 

"Just a bit scared" she replied. "What if I make a bad decision? I don't know much about selling a house, I'm not even sure I know what to think about thinking about it. And if I decide not to stay with Matron Meril, how would I find a new mentor? Would anyone want to teach me? I don't really like her, but it's been better the last few days. I just don't know how to make a big decision like this. What if I choose wrong?" 

Ed stopped walking to crouch down so his eyes were level with hers, and took both of her hands. "Sweetling, there is no wrong choice here. They are important decisions, certainly, but there is no one right way to do a lot of things. Father Ollie wants you to take time to think about them so the choices made are your choices, rather than someone else's. Each of the paths you could choose will determine what options you have for the next choices you make, and each will have opportunities and hardships of their own. None of the choices before you is a bad choice, but there are a lot of emotional...things... connected to them, and you are the only one who should decide which path you can best live with taking." He gently squeezed her hands and waited for her to nod before continuing. "Whichever choice you make, we'll make the best of it. Father Ollie, me, maybe some of our acquaintances... there are people who will help with things like finding a new mentor, if that's what you decide, or keeping you sane if you choose to stay where you are. You get to make the choice, Allie, but you will not have to take care of all the resulting details all on your own. When you are older and more experienced then, yes, the big decisions and making them work will be mostly on you. Right now, you just need to decide what you want us to help get done. I think that's something you are quite capable of doing."

_..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._

"And you know, that's still some of the best advice I've been given: There is no single right way to do a lot of things, and there are people who can help get the big things done. The important thing is to make choices you believe you can live with dealing with. Is that last strip of bias tape done, Heline?"

"Granmaaa!!! That's not the end! You didn't say how Matron Meril was when you got back, or what you decided, or anything! It's not a proper end at all!"

"Be that as it may, my dear, that is where I am ending the story. Matron Meril's temper was not noticeably worse than usual, and what I decided will be told another day. You've had more than a fair amount of time to finish your assigned sewing had you not let your hands get distracted by your ears. Finish that strip and two more by suppertime, or you'll get no dessert tonight. I love you dearly, but I'd be doing you no favors letting you slack off. So. Focus on your work now, dear. There will be other days for stories."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think that's the end of this little arc. Sorry it took me so long to get the last piece done. The characters were being uncommunicative....  
> I have the next arc planned out, probably one chapter. Hope to get it up soon.


	4. The Favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How _did_ the cat do her a favor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of follow-up from the previous arc. Heline's question stuck in my head until I finally decided to answer it.

Darby had come to the shop. Darby smelled a little funny. Darby liked cats. Lots of cats. They were all he talked about:  
"Had a new little girl show up yesterday - white as a Companion and just as proud!"  
"Tabby's having kittens again. Wonder if she'll top her last litter - seven kits she had! Seven!"  
"Poor old Bartholomew, smartest cat I've ever had. Sure going to miss him."

Today's topic: "It's getting colder. Worse than usual, this year, I'd think. Should I get them all little blankets? Or coats? Do you think they'd wear coats?"

After a long and boring conversation in which Aloise convinced Darby that a cat's own magnificent fur coat was all a cat would condescend to be seen wearing in public, and that one or two largish blankets - available at several of the second-hand stalls for a good price - would be more than sufficient, Darby finally wandered back out of the shop, and Heline had the chance to ask the question Darby had reminded her of: "Granma, just how _did_ Marte do you a favor?"

"Hmmm? Sorry, dear, what was that?"

"Your Aunt Greta's cat. Marte. You said she did you a favor, once. I'd like to hear that story, now, please." 

"After dinner, I think. Let's get things tidied up, now."

***~~~***

 

"So... the Story of Marte's Favor," said Aloise over their evening cup of tea." It's all in how you look at it, to call it a favor, really. My mother and Aunt Greta would not have. They'd have called it a catastrophe... which is also accurate, to be perfectly frank." Aloise smirked a little. "This was before Marte went quite senile. She was stupid, but not a bad cat. I never saw her catch a mouse, but it may be that her presence alone kept the mice out as I don't remember ever seeing a mouse in the shop at all before that fall. 

I had just turned six or seven. It was getting colder and I had gotten a new winter cloak. I know now it was a very fine wool plush, but at the time I just knew it was very soft and very warm. It was a dark brown. I loved it - for the first moon or so. 

Then one of the neighborhood boys - more than a bit of a bully - saw me in it one day and said I looked like a giant dog had walked past and left something behind. He was quite a bit more vulgar than that, and from that day on would call me names based on his "joke". Some of his friends and toadies picked up on it, too. They were disgusting and I hated it. It wasn't too long before I began to hate wearing my nice warm cloak. I tried telling my mother and Aunt Greta, but they just snorted and said that such rabble are best ignored as being too stupid to appreciate fine things. 

They were right, of course, but that didn't make it easy to ignore. And eventually words alone weren't enough for that lot and I started getting little tormenting pranks pulled on me - getting "accidentally" bumped so I stepped in puddles or worse every time I was sent on an errand; packages disappearing if I set them down for a moment and turning up again wet or smeared with mud. Things like that. The bullies were clever enough to not steal or actually damage anything - that would have brought my Aunt's wrath down upon them via the Guard, and they well knew it. 

Aunt Greta finally started taking it seriously at that point, though, and sending a paid errand boy for deliveries instead of me. But by that point, I firmly hated my nice cloak for all the trouble I'd been put through. Silly, isn't it. It wasn't the cloak's fault at all; brown is a fairly common color as the dyes are usually cheap and colorfast. It was entirely the choice of the boys, and while I pretty much hated them, too, there was little I could do about them besides what I already had - make sure others knew what was really going on. 

I wanted to get rid of the cloak, though, as it had been what prompted the teasing in the first place. I begged for a new one to no avail, though I eventually convinced Aunt Greta to let me sew a thin blue cotton over the top, turning the brown plush into a lining for a blue cloak. I foolishly rushed it, and did a terrible job, which only brought new taunts about my "raggedy" looks, and didn't stop the other jibes at all. I was in tears. My mother did her best to comfort me, but both she and Aunt Greta used it as a lesson on doing a job right the first time. I was allowed to work on re-doing my cloak properly in my own time, once chores and lessons were done, and it took days. The first evening, I got the stitches ripped out, and was back to wearing the brown. The next few days I made some progress, but was so embarrassed at having the blue flapping around half attached that I wore the blue side in where it couldn't be seen. I hated that cloak worse than ever with every stitch and every new taunt.

Marte liked the cloak, though. She took to napping on whatever part draped to the floor while I worked. It didn't matter how many times I shook her off or pulled it out from under her, she'd flop back on at the next opportunity. Her interference slowed my progress even more, which just prolonged the situation."

"Granma, that doesn't sound like she was doing you a favor at all."

"No, it doesn't. And I certainly wasn't thinking so. I'd gotten the new cover somewhat more than half way done. Very properly, this time, with the rough edges turned in and hemmed, secured with the most even stitches I could manage. It was then I saw the first mouse I'd ever seen in the shop. I had dumped Marte off the trailing edge yet again as I moved to a new section, and she tumbled over to her dish, bumping it and startling the mouse that had been hiding behind it - probably to steal the last crumbs of food inside. The mouse ran across Marte's tail and paws, scaring the daylights out of her. She leapt hissing and yowling like she'd been scalded, and knocked over a bucket of water Mother was using to mop the floor. Marte hated water as passionately as I'd come to hate that cloak and, having manged to drench herself, threw a huge fit over the dreaded wetness. The mouse, meanwhile, had made a beeline for the perceived security of the mop... that my mother was holding. Mother screamed, whacked it with the mop, and basically started beating the mouse to death. It took a few minutes, but between Marte and Mother, the room was a shambles. Once Mother had started flailing with the mop, Marte redoubled her efforts, climbing the very walls to escape this new source of Wet Terror. I'd thrown my cloak over my head and backed up against the wall to avoid both the flying water _and_ the flying cat. Which meant that when Marte dislodged some bottles of dye and bleaching solution from a nearby shelf in her mad attempts to outrun her own fur, they soaked the cloak. Marte eventually found the door, and continued trying to escape the water; Mother eventually realized the mouse was dead; Aunt Greta eventually came in to see what all the hissing, screaming and thumping was about. It took hours to set the room to rights, mop the floor (without further war being waged), spread all the wet things to dry, and take out the trash - which included not only the mouse and broken bottles, but some damaged pattern paper and an end table. We enjoyed a nice cup of tea before going to bed exhausted. The next morning, my cloak had dried... stained and piebald, with the fabric damaged beyond salvaging from the bleaching solution. At least as a cloak. I rinsed it well and tucked one of the badly stained but salvageable pieces into Marte's bed. She seemed to appreciate it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Darby is apparently the neighborhood "Crazy Cat Lady". Or whatever the male version is. "Crazy Cat Man" just doesn't sound quite right... Not sure if he'll show up in any more arcs, but maybe.  
> And the mouse and the mop? Based on a true story. My own mother used a broom, and while there was no insane cat, there was indeed a mouse, and it died of blunt trauma.


	5. Blessings in Disguise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is not fair, but sometimes what we see as hardship is, in fact, a blessing.

"Id's dot _fair_ " Heline complained after the local Herbalist had left. "Jannie's habing her nabe day pardy domorrow ad I wadded to go. Dot sday id bed." She coughed and burrowed a bit deeper into the blanket, belying her own words, even as she scowled fiercely at nothing.

"Now dear," Aloise soothed, "There will be other parties on other days when you are well enough to actually enjoy them. The Lord works in ways we cannot see. You do not know what good may come of this, we can only trust in Him and do our best with what's before us now. And right now, you need to take some of this medicine and rest; sleep if you can." Aloise proffered the spoonful of potion, knowing well that Heline would soon sleep. Between her sick body insisting on it and the sleeping draught included with the medicines, any other outcome was all but impossible. "There you go. I know it tastes awful. Rinse your mouth with a bit of water, that's right. Have a good drink. You'll feel better soon. Shall I tell you a story to help you relax?"

Heline grumbled a bit at the medicine's bitter taste, but nodded, wriggling deeper into the bed to get comfortable. If she HAD to be sick, at least she'd get a story. 

_..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._

"When I was about your age," Aloise began, "my best friends invited me to join their Spring picnic. They are followers of Agnetha and the equinox is an important day in that religion. They'd gotten permission to have their picnic at the Home Farms that provide much of the food for the King's table. One of the men in the congregation had done a great amount of work improving the irrigation system there, and had been granted the favor in appreciation. We were all excited to see the special breeds of animals kept there and the hothouses where they grow fruits and vegetables even in winter. We'd heard that some of the hothouses were big enough to hold entire trees, and the windows were made in some special way to keep the interior from freezing even in the dead of winter. It had even been hinted that we might get to sample some out-of-season fruit if we behaved very nicely.

I was also looking forward to wearing a very pretty dress Aunt Greta had helped me make for the event. I'd put a lot of work into it and was rather proud of the result. Aunt Greta had helped with the trim, and walked me through the embroidery patterns at the collar and hem, but I'd done the bulk of the work putting it together. I'd been helping her with commissioned work for less than a year at that point, and this felt like a great victory to me; I was the one in charge of the project and Aunt Greta was helping me instead of the other way around.

The day before the picnic, I came down with a bad fever. I tried to hide it, but to no avail. I felt terrible, and not just because I was sick. I was going to miss an event I'd been planning on attending for months, working hard on a nice dress for, and quite frankly wanted to show off. I eventually gave in because I just didn't have strength to fight and Mother threatened to strap me down to the bed as delusional and hallucinating if I tried to set one toe to the floor for any reason other than relieving myself. Aunt Greta didn't go quite that far, but instead pointed out that my friends were honoring their Goddess and getting them sick would be a terrible way to help them celebrate a Holy Day.

So I was stuck in bed with nasty tasting medicine and a cold cloth on my head while they got to explore the Home Farms and have special fruit. A message had been sent to let my friends know, of course, and they sent kind words in reply, but I was devastated and sulky when not asleep.

The next morning, Mother came in to talk to me, and tell me my illness was a blessing in disguise. Which made no sense until she told me what had happened at the picnic. I later heard all about the cows and ducks and sheep from my friends. And the obnoxious goat that tried to follow them around and nibble their sleeves and hems. But Mother was telling me a different story, one my friends didn't talk about much.

Spring rains had left the ground muddy, though they stopped before the picnic began, and the caretakers had let the visitors use one of the barns while the cows were in the pasture. After eating, they'd been taken on a tour of the grounds, shown the fancy chickens and ducks and allowed to pet the few lambs that had been dropped a bit early. They were shown the newly expanded irrigation system and treated to a long (and apparently boring) explanation of how the canals worked and what had been done to improve them. My group of friends had lagged a bit behind the larger group to watch the lambs, and had not quite caught up. It was then that Rosha, my best friend, slipped on the muddy path and grabbed Cara's arm to try and catch her balance. They both slipped. Sari, the other of my friends who was there, reached out to steady them, and all three girls tumbled into the canal, which was running full from the rain. The canals were shallow enough to touch the bottom, but the current made standing impossible and they were swept downstream. For a few brief seconds, everyone froze, and then Rosha's older brother, Markas, jumped into the cold water after them. A couple of his friends followed him in, while the women herded the younger children away from the banks and the men followed the canal toward the weir system that would distribute the water into different fields.

Markas was a good swimmer and managed to get to the girls who were fighting to get a hold on the canal wall, scraping their fingers raw in the process. Being somewhat taller than them, he managed to grab a fence post at the edge of the canal and brace himself, holding them against the current long enough for two of the other boys to reach them and help girls to also get a grip. Markas lost his hold and he was swept further downstream. Cara soon followed, her fingers numb from the frigid water. Shar stayed to help Rosha and Sari, and the other boy let go of his precarious hold to follow Cara. Half the men went to help Rosha and Sari and the rest continued on after Markas and Cara, either detouring around the fence or getting chased by the bull in that field. 

Cara was found with the other boy who had gone into the water, clinging to the branches of a willow overhanging the water - they said Markas had helped each of them, grabbing their arms as they were swept past and and pulling them to the relative safety of the branches before being swept off again. Markas was eventually found trapped against the weirs by the pressure of the water, nearly drowned. It took five men and a horse to get him free. He was months recovering from that and the broken leg he'd picked up along the way. No one was surprised when he was eventually Chosen. 

Though they were the first reached, Rosha and Sari were the last actually rescued, save Markas. The fence post they were clinging to was part of the pasture for a rather temperamental, but valuable, bull. One of the men ended up jumping in the water with a rope around his waist, making his way to them, and using the rope to better secure them to the post since Shar's arms were getting tired. Others distracted the bull until the groundskeeper arrived to move him. Markas was the worst injured, but all of them were muddy, scraped, bruised and chilled to the bone. Sari didn't get fever-sick from the experience, but the others all did.

Had I not been home sick, had I been there, I would undoubtedly gone into the canal with my friends, would probably have gotten sick anyway, and would have definitely gotten my nice new dress completely ruined in the muddy, icy water. With four girls to try and save, Markas might have died. Or one of us could have died or been badly injured, too. As much as I regretted missing the fun, it was a blessing in disguise, for all of us."

_..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._..._

Aloise looked at Heline's now peaceful face. Tucking the blanket gently around her sleeping granddaughter, she quietly left the room, reflecting on all the blessings she had been given in her life. The Lord of Light worked in many ways, and sometimes His hand was only clearly seen when looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A large part of the inspiration for this came from a book called [In Grandma's Attic](https://www.amazon.com/Grandmas-Attic/dp/0781403790), by Arleta Richardson. Assorted details were borrowed from another book,[Grandfather Stories](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grandfather_Stories), by S.H. Adams, and various stories from my uncles' reminiscences at family reunions. All mashed together with my imagination and a Velgarth twist. ~_^ Hope you enjoy.


End file.
